Episode 207: Beyond 'At Least': The Power of Validating Caregiver Emotions

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Do you remember the last time you shared a frustration about caregiving with someone and you knew it was the wrong thing to do as soon as you heard the words “at least”?

Maybe you usually don’t talk about caregiving much to anyone but this one time you had a moment of vulnerability and you tell your friend about how tired you are because your husband or mother need more of you right now. They look down at their coffee and fire back “well at least you still have them in your life” or even worse “at least it isn’t worse.” 

At least cancer hasn’t taken them. At least they still remember your name sometimes. At least your child still lets you give them a hug. 

At least

Two simple words that when put together hope to bring you shame under the cover of trying to be optimistic. 

Two words that say, don’t be greedy. You got what you got. Just be happy with the way things are. 

Two little words that shut you down. 

It’s curious when people think they can use this argument because you don’t ever think of telling someone who’s writhing in pain because they just stubbed their toe that at least the other nine don’t hurt. Or when someone spills their coffee we don’t think it wise to say “at least there’s still more in the pot”.

Maybe that’s because people can see and understand the pain in those situations. Many of us know first hand the pain of hitting your toe against something and the frustration of spilling coffee. Maybe some people always want to show the other side of things because other peoples difficult emotions makes them uncomfortable. Or maybe people say it out of habit, without thinking, without knowing the power their words really have. 

It doesn’t matter why people say “at least” what matters is how it makes you feel because those words usually show up when a person is trying to share how their life, or how they feel emotionally, isn’t going well. 

In that moment when you finally share the difficulties of your caregiving life you aren’t looking for someone to show you it could be worse, which is the other side of saying “at least”. You’re looking for someone to at least listen to you. Validate your feelings. Comfort you and give you a little love so you can pick yourself up and keep on going. It’s like running a race and getting to a water station. You don’t want them to do anything but hand you a cup so you can move on.

When you finally have the energy to tell someone about what troubles you, you just want them to actively listen to you. You want them to hold your hand, put an arm around your shoulder, hand you a tissue or a coffee house napkin. You want them to go on the ride with you when you tell them the story about the day you had at the hospital last week and how scared you were. You want them to get indignant and mad for you when they hear someone was mean to you and laugh with you when you tell them how you were so tired you walked into the mens bathroom and didn’t notice until after you walked back out.  

You just want to feel like someone is on your side for a moment. That you’re not alone. That you’re supported. 

So when we take a moment to talk to someone and tell them what is going on the last thing we want is for them to tell us it’s not really that bad by saying “at least”. 

Because when we hear those words we shut down again don’t we? 

It’s a sneaky way to say something because when you hear it you feel wronged but confused because on the outside it seems like the person is trying to help by showing you the positive side of things, but on the inside it hurts.

When someone starts a sentence off with “at least” what you might be feeling is… you have nothing to complain about. 

That hurts.

It’s invalidating. It makes you question if you’re making too big of a deal about how you feel and if “at least” is followed by “you don’t have" (Cancer, Alzheimer’s, Autism …fill in the blank with what your loved one has) it makes you feel shame. 

Those two little words shut you down and make you fold up your emotions and pack them down deep in that well you usually store them in. Hiding how you feel, trying to handle it all on your own because you know the opposite can actually hurt more. 

The phrase “at least” is a tricky one because if you attempt to argue against it you’ll look like a mad person. It’s hard to find yourself complaining about how tired you are because your husband is newly back home from major cancer surgery and you had to wake up every two hours to give him medication and then argue against someone saying “at least you’re not the one with cancer”. 

Just that one sentence is enough for you to decide that maybe you’re wrong. Maybe you should be ashamed at how upset you were to have not had any sleep. Then you try to pack it away but you know down deep there is something disturbing about someone telling you “at least” it isn’t worse. 

It’s that when you hear any sentence that starts with “at least” what you feel is… you don’t matter.

Your problems aren’t big enough. Your emotions aren’t important enough. Giving up the life you had before caregiving isn’t problematic enough because there are bigger issues in your world and you should just figure it out. 

So you take a step back, or stare down at your coffee and you swallow the tears of shame, anger and disappointment and you change the subject.

This matters, because you matter. 

Your caregiving matters. 

Your emotions and your need to connect with someone who will listen to you when you need to get something off your chest matters. 

The problem is, unless you understand that life isn’t bound by an either or mentality it’s hard to understand a caregiver or the life of the person they care for. It isn’t your job to teach this to the people around you but it’s important for you to know there is no shame in how you feel or the experiences you have. The overwhelm you experience as a caregiver is only an indication of the difficulty of caregiving. All the things you feel are yours and shouldn’t be put up against what someone else is feeling. All of your needs are important and should be prioritized no matter what the person you care for is going through.  

You can have both. You can be pissed off that you had to miss a big meeting because your wife’s surgery was rescheduled and still be grateful there is a surgery that can hopefully help her. You can be tired of hearing your dad’s story about how he tied his books with his belt to go to school and feel fortunate to have him living with you. You can be angry that your daughter won’t have the childhood you dreamed they would and love them to death. 

You can be sad, mad, tired, overwhelmed by caregiving and still be thankful that you are a caregiver. 

There is no black or white, right or wrong, up or down. It is both.

So you have a right to feel your feelings even if you don’t have the cancer your husband has. You can enjoy running in the morning even though your partner is wheel chair bound. 

You can expect to complain to a friend and not have them turn around to tell you “at least’

Thanks for listening.